


to you, who shines so brightly

by velvetnoire



Category: Witch's Heart (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, From Sirius to Claire - a letter of sorts, Gen, Implied Character Death, Not really written as a ship - maybe if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-06-18
Packaged: 2019-05-25 04:50:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14969474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/velvetnoire/pseuds/velvetnoire
Summary: That is undeniably your innate essence, Claire - an insufferable, incorrigible, and truly indomitable force...and perhaps I would not have it any other way.





	to you, who shines so brightly

I imagine that there are five major components to you, Claire Elford, and they would go as follows:

 

  1. Sugar. Sweet sucrose seems to race through your veins, the saccharine fuel to the stars in your eyes. Just seeing you dance about seems to make my patience dwindle to the very last drop, just like the dregs of my afternoon tea.
  2. Stardust. I imagine that we are all made of fragments of dying stars, supernovae and shimmering light: forged of things ancient, born anew. You beam all too brightly: shining like the sun, your joy is ineffable seemingly infinite - almost infectious in its scope. It radiates from you like an aura, even several paces away. I imagine if you ever traveled to the heavens, it'd be like coming home.
  3. Strength. You wrest sealed-shut jars open with brute force, and with the thud of impact on the blood-red monsters staggering through the shadows, they disintegrate with several of your trademark kicks. Ladylike? Not even close - but admirable, perhaps. Frightening? As if you could ever be such a thing. Noel’s request is laughable - if there's anyone that needs protecting, it's _me,_ not you!
  4. Smiles… and your insistence on spreading your cheer, barging into my quarters and insisting on making those...those imbecilic expressions in an effort for me to smile. Your inane inquiries and your incessant, idiotic antics never seem to end. Thanks to you and the other occupants, the mansion has been a lot... _livelier_ lately, to say the least.
  5. Stubbornness. Even when I ran away from you, refusing to listen - you grabbed hold of me, face flush with frustration and shouted reason, begging for me to lend an ear to your pleas. For once - you had been the rational one. For once… you were the one to snap me out of it. And for that, Claire, I must offer you...my gratitude. Truly, sincerely, honestly...this may be one of the few times you'll ever hear this: thank you.



 

That is undeniably your innate essence - an insufferable, incorrigible, and truly indomitable force...and perhaps I would not have it any other way.

I imagine if you were an angel, you'd have a crooked halo, radiant like the glow-in-the-dark stars you insisted upon having in your room. Cheap imitations, I had called them, scoffing at such a foolish notion; then again, I suppose you were always one for flights of fancy.

If you were an angel, I’d glare at the offending object - the halo, the corona of radiance knocked off-kilter. I would always sigh, the curl of exasperation an exhalation in the air. My hands would twitch traitorously before caving to the impulse, giving in as easily as you inhale sweet cream and strawberries into the abyssal depths of your stomach; your appetite for sweets truly is insatiable as it is unfathomable. The amount of sugar loaded within those confections...needless to say, there's little wonder towards why you are always bursting with energy.

Adjusting that crooked crown invisible to none but I, I find that insufferable smile of yours almost endearing - not that I would ever admit it aloud. Here, I tuck irritation: gritted teeth and furrowed brow, a crimson-tinted vexation I've come to know all too well. Around you, it's all too easy to succumb.

(How could you have forgotten Lady Dorothy, the one who had so graciously taken us into her care? How can you smile, unburdened in your bliss?... then again, it is not your fault. You are an all too easy target, for all your strength - endless cheer and dangerous naïveté.)

But you were always a fool: be it this world or any other, it is a factor than remains in unsurprising constance. I should be accustomed to your antics by now...yet you always seem to surprise me. Right when I think I have you figured out..you do the opposite of what I expect.

Odd, to see you here once more. Fate is a curious - or perhaps even a _funny_ \- thing despite the fact that my laughter is as infrequent as your sense of caution; yes, fate is curious indeed. Perhaps it is destiny that draws us together once more, an iron inevitability that cannot be changed: carved out in stone, our movements of flesh and bone written ages ago.  
  
How irritating the curiosity, an aching itch to know, has left me pondering the mystery of it all. All these years, where have you been? Who has squirreled your memory back into the crevices of time and left the absence in you?  
  
Don't think me a fool. Don't think me blind: I can see the way you argue with silence and questions to the empty air. Noel does it, too: machinations behind closed doors I cannot decipher, expression shuttering into a mask once more if I turn to even ask - the question curling on my tongue as the openness in his face fades with all the subtlety of a slamming door.  
  
But you are far too simple - far too trusting - to scheme against anyone. If anything, you would be the recipient of such a craven deed - and I shudder to even consider the notion. Not out of concern, mind you, but Lady Dorothy has tasked me with your care - not in words, but in sentiment all the same.  
  
You, whose - pardon the purple prose - eyes burn with the intensity of daylight stars, passionate with whatever foolish thing you set out to accomplish. You, whose strength unrivaled kicks the eldritch abominations roaming quiet corridors into oblivion, the impact I can hear even from through my door. (What do you think I am, deaf? Don’t think I don’t hear you at night, running through the halls and getting up to all sorts of mischief.)  
  
You would never set out with the intent to harm anyone. Not now, and not ever - not unless they did something truly, irreversibly unforgivable. Even then - I wonder how far your generosity extends. Likely too far for your own good, if I had to hazard a guess. Do you fancy yourself a knight in shining armor, warding me from harm?  
  
Refrain from doing so - cease such thoughts. You mustn’t remain immersed in your candied dreams sickeningly sweet, drizzled in syrup and clouds of fairy floss - after all, such fantasies are naught but a pipe dream. Like the fairytales I’d favored, long ago and perhaps even now - although I’ll keep that bit of information to myself, thank you very much.  
  
Do not delude yourself: you cannot always be a savior. So why must you make things so difficult? You wear your heart on your velvet sleeves, bearing it proudly like a badge on display.  
  
Even your cooking reminds me of the time back then, when it was just the three of us. Dorothy taught you, yes? But of course - that memory is lost to you, deleted from your personal database as if someone had pressed a metaphorical backspace and left them into fractured fragments, flickers of memories only recalled in the wake of dreams.

Truly, your cooking really does carry the taste of home. Why must you insist on rotating the culinary selection between only curry and Salisbury steak? Have you not the decency to switch things up for a change? As pleasing as the two dishes are to the palate, perhaps it would be good to spice things up for once.  
  
Ah, well. You are no princess, even for the dress I lent you (it had been languishing away, anyways - gathering dust, really, and it was quite a shame that there had been nobody around to put it to use...Lady Dorothy would have wanted you to wear it, after all. It was memento of her youth, she’d say.)  Not even for your heels or the ribbon fastened in your celeste hair. You, for all your strength, can save yourself.  
  
Do not waste your time on me. For some reason - I feel as if I am destined to die, the tang of iron a phantom sensation, the hourglass sand stained a haematic hue. Be it bullet or blade, I know my mortality now, more than ever.

...But perhaps we may meet again, as fate is wont to be. In another time, another era - cloaked in the color of the salt, like the saline tears streaking your cheeks at the long-awaited reunion. For your angel wings would spread wide, the soft down tickling my skin, sending me into a series of sneezes. They would shroud me in blinding white: pure as your intentions, shimmering like snow.

Maybe I could see Lady Dorothy once more - holding tight to her embrace and never let go. I’d like for you to meet her once more, if reintroductions truly are in order. Even if you do not remember her…you two would get along all too well.

Your fondness of sugary confections, your stardust soul. Your inhuman strength and unending smiles. Your persistence, your stubbornness...how you stand stalwart in the face of danger...these aspects are so intrinsically you, shining through the summer days we’d shared filled with giddy laughter (mostly you and Noel) and even on the days where the rain cascaded down, endless and seemingly unceasing.

Even beyond Lady Dorothy’s wishes...I cannot deny that you have become yet another precious thing...another precious _person_ that I fear losing.

Even when my knees go weak in the face of danger - be it demons looming above dyed a vile green or resident pyromaniacs that prove immune to your strength - you refuse to back down, instead wanting me to save myself. But doing so would betray all that I stand for - for you are a source of strength, your bravery nothing short of inspiring in the face of all that’s occurred. So I cannot run away, now, even as cowardly as I am, because I cannot...I _will not_ leave you. Not now, and not ever.

You are not alone - so please, don’t make such an expression for me. Why would you, for someone who has been nothing but standoffish in the face of your unending cheer? You look on the verge of tears. It doesn’t suit you one bit. No, not at all...

Ah, well. This is a rare occasion, you must understand, but...perhaps I’ll smile for you, just this once. Just this once, you hear? So cease your tears. I insist...please, don't cry for me.

Save your tears for yourself.

 


End file.
